


The miserable wreck that is Nicholas Grantaire

by CapableofFeeling



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: I have no clue how to use this website lets see how this goes, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:05:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5416313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapableofFeeling/pseuds/CapableofFeeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this is something I started years ago (which is the reason why its is not amazingly worded) I thought someone might want to read it?? and hopefully give me some constructive criticism? If anyone's interested i'll post the rest of it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Enjolras, seriously, you have to stop doing that" Snapped Combeferre as the group of students watched Grantaire flee from the room, tears running down his cheeks "You've gone too far"

Enjolras rolled his eyes and diverted his attention to fiddling with a pile of paper "Why does he care what I say anyway? he doesn't even like me"

"Mmm he does" Bahorel mumbles, taking a drag on his cigarette. An inquisitive smile passed Combeferres face as Enjolras suddenly seemed to turn all of his attention to Bahorel "What did you say?"

Bahorel stood up, off the rickety old arm chair he was perched on and put a hand on the shoulder of Enjolrass' red jacket. "I said he likes you. He really likes you...if you know what I mean"

"Don't be stupid Bahorel" Enjolras snapped "he doesn't like me enough to respect what I say in these meetings let alone like me like...that" Enjolras' hands jumped and flourished in the air wildly.

"Maybe if you tried listening to him he wouldn't have to grab your attention the say he does" added Joly

'Damn Joly' Enjolras thought. He was always able to see sense about everything apart from health.

He just didn't have the energy right now.

"Anyway" Enjolras started "on the topic off"


	2. Grantaire gets drunk and thinks about Enjolras

"No Enjolras don't be fucking stupid. I just feel like..."

"You? feel? you're incapable of feeling. You care for nothing but your drink. You don't have anything to add to the Amis. You don't even try"

...................................................................................................

Grantaire's eyes began to sting, his eyes to the brim with tears. He ran a hand through his curly hair. Doesn't believe in anything, huh? Enjolras is one of the smartest people he knows but he can't believe how stupid he can be sometimes. Yes, he believe that France is kinda fucked up at the moment but no, he doesn't think that a bunch of Uni students prancing about with their loud voices were going to change anything. So, no, he doesn't beleive in revolution...but he believes in Enjolras.

The first time he met Enjolras he was amazed, his golden hair framed the most beautiful, statuesque face he has ever seen. He looked as if he had jumped straight out of a painting. But it isn't just his looks that Grantaire believes in (thought he does believe that Enjolras is definetely hot enough to flirt his way out of getting arrested) No, Grantaire believes in his passion, so deep and full of truth and anger that when ever he talks Grantaire finds his stomach turning. He believes in the way that he would do anything to save the people, christ, Grantaire thought, he'd bloody martyr himself for the slightest thing.... and the people loved him for it. The people believe in him and he really did believe in the people.

Well, all the people, except him, Enjolras hated him and it made him ill. When Grantaire was around Enjolras he felt as if fireworks would start to dance in the air. It is obvious though, when Grantaire felt fireworks, one of them was going to get burned.

Well fuck him, whatever Grantaire did would never please him so whats the point in trying? Enjolras saw nothing in Grantaire but a drunken cynic. God, he was a druken cynic.

Grantaire raised his bottle to his lips and took a gulp

"This is for your revolution"

He took another gulp 

"This is for the bloody Les Amis"

And another

"And this... if for my digusting love for you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, i' I hope you're enjoying so far, I'd love some feedback! please tell me if you have any ideas or tips or suggestions or anything really :)


	3. Enjolras mopes around like a mopey thing.

A day had past and Enjolras found that he could not stop thinking about yesterdays events. A sigh escaped his cherry stained lips. If someone were to walk in on Enjolras at that moment they would assume he were confused about something, his chest puffed out, his hands locked and his head down in contemplation. However, Enjolras wasn't confused, he was angry. No, he was fuming. What exactly was Bahorel trying to say? Was he trying to suggest that Grantaire had feelings for him? Enjolras just could not comprehend the situation. Enjolras had never had a relationship before, honestly, they kind of intimidated him. He, a man of the people, felt almost scared to have to connect with someone in a non political way (Jesus, it was hard enough for him to make his friends in the first place).

And....Grantaire?? really? Enjolras had never seen him as anything more than a nuisance, a drunken obstacle to challenge him and test his patience and honestly, in his opinion, he has the patience of a saint to deal with Grantaire. He's rude to say the least and all he seems to want is to drag Enjolras down. Surely if he 'liked' his so much then he would at least encourage him and not take every chance possible to shit on everything Enjolras does. Enjolras' face screwed up in surprise as a tear leaked from his face. Grantaire made his stomach hurt.

"COOOOOMMMBBEEFEEEERRRREEEEEEEE" Enjolras shreiked. In the kitchen, a plate was dropped and its remains scattered about the floor as the guide came hurtling out of the kitchen, bright pink apron still tied around his waist. His glasses steamed up and esque.

"What's wrong?, what've you done?" 

"How do you know if someone likes you?"

"Oh for fuck sakes, Enjolras"


	4. Grantaire's solemn booze up

And so Grantaire sat there for the best of (or worst of) two days wasted on booze and the feeling of misery embeded deep inside him. Of course, the man he falls for is so perfect, of course he is nothing but the mud under enjolras' feet on his walk across the path of martyrdom. Why Why WHY. Grantaire bottle smashes in his grip and cuts up his hands and for a minutes, curled up in agony, he forgets his misery. Of un requited love and worthlessness.

He's always been this way. Useless. Even when he was small, at the hands of his father, he was cursed at; taunted. He had always insisted that he was a good boy but looking back now he knows he was never capable of being good. He still isn't. He will always be a burden to someone and he knows it. He can't forget it. "You are pathetic, Grantaire" it cut through his ear like knives.

His hands are throbbing now, a river of blood running from his hands but he just couldn't find the energy to tend to them. He realised that he just didn't care. Now, if that was any of his friends blood he would be the first to fuss because he knows that his friends are worth so much more than him and if the only good he can do in this world is help them then by god he'll do it.

His friends, his beautiful friends. Courfeyrac and Combeferre who smile at him when he walks in the room, as if they aren't repulsed by his presence.

Bossuet, who never fails to trip over something whilst getting up to greet him, showing a type of enthusiasm that Grantaire had never before experienced. Joly, who never fails to notice if Grantaire becomes sad or ill. His small face contorted in concern. Grantaire wonders why he cares.

Bahorel who pulls out a stool and beckons Grantaire over as if he wanted to be with Grantaire. As if Grantaire being there makes his life so much better. Feuilly, who had cried on Grantaire's shoulder over reason he would never tell a soul. Grantaire was so pleased that he was someone that he could trust.

Oh, and Jehan. beautiful, precious Jehan, with flowers in his hair and a dazed smile on his face. Grantaire thinks the world of him.

They'd hate him if they could see him now. "No Enjolras" He'd hear them say when the think he's left the room "He not a pathetic drunk. He's our friend" But it's the true. He is a pathetic drunk, there is no use denying it. His friends will leave him, he wouldn't be surprised. Papa always said he'd have no one so why doesn't he just beleive it? Why doesn't he just give into his demons? He knows his sanity isn't worth fighting for.

The sound of three even knocks pierce through the air, startling Grantaire. A voice follows, a voice that makes Grantaire wish he was dead already, for he knew he could not ignore it. "Grantaire?.... Its Enjolras. Can you let me in please?"


	5. Grantaire, the doorkeeper to his own personal hell.

"Can you go...please?" Grantaire whispered, more to himself than anything. He couldn't let Enjolras see him like this. He knew whatever he did he would always look a fool but in public he did try, he really did. He couldn't allow Enjolras to find that his suspicions true, that he really was just a drunken disgusting loser who deserves exactly what he's condemned himself to. If he let Enjolras see him like this, his heart would break, and he didn't have much of one left anyway and what he did have was the soul property of his friends, it was the only thing he could give back to them and he knew it was not enough.

Oh, and beautiful Apollo. Grantaire mused to himself now, as if he wasn't aware of the godly presence outside his door. 'My dear Enjolras' He mumbled 'You have the greatest eyes I have ever seen, why would you force them to view such monstrosities?' They were the bluest eyes Grantaire had ever seen in his twenty two years. They held passion and anger of a thousand men with a fate so much worse than his, yet they held a strange sort of innocence too. As if he had entered the tunnel, not accepting that he can't see what lies deep within it. Grantaire knew he could not allow those sweet eyes to fall apon the hideous sight that was himself, the rag-taggled, unshaven and messy, with ugly eyes that have been poisoned by pain and fear and death. He knew, in his right mind that he would have to let Enjolras in through the doorway, that he, so stubborn and defiant, would not go away but he wasn't in his right mind, he never was when it came to Enjolras.

He knew really that Enjolras didn't always mean the painful things he says. He also knew that Enjolras grew up with loving parents and a dog and a house with a huge back garden. He grew up like a normal child but, as Grantaire saw it, a normal child was very lucky. If it wasn't for the fire the world could see in him you would wonder why he was a trusted advocate for the poor and disadvantaged, two things that he has certainly never been himself.

The thing was, as far as Grantaire could see (though he could not always trust his own vision. Glazed over with booze and the fear of a coward) Enjolras could manage crowds with ease and grace, he could charm even the most vicious of scum like a serpent but, with one person, Grantaire was hopeless. He cared so strongly over the plight of the people but he could not recognise the way this plight had manifested itself in Grantaire. He saw him as an obstacle, as if he gave up his whole existence to be the thorn in Enjolras' side when in fact, Grantaire only wanted to say what he knew, not just some fact or figure found in an old book.

Grantaire forgave him though, how could he not? It was all true and he was brave to admit it to his face. He was but the mess under Enjolras' feet and he seemed to make an effort to ground him into the dirt but at least he was with him, Grantaire would not be lying if he said he would die, he would spend and eternity in hell just to make Enjolras smile but he would never make Enjolras smile and he would burn anyway.

Enjolras knocked again, facing the door, his face contorted in confusion over what he seemed to have gotten himself into and no real understanding of why he was going it. "Grantaire, please let me in"

From the hall, Enjolras heard heavy footsteps pad closer towards him, separated only by the presence of a sad, grey door. He jumped back in shock and the door started to click and shudder.

He rolled his shoulders back and stood tall as he saw the door creek open.

"Grantaire?"


	6. Misplaced Guilt?

Enjolras started to cough. "God Grantaire what have you been drinking?" Enjolras looked amazing, as always and Grantaire felt more conscious than he had ever felt is entire life. Of course, Enjolras did always look radiant but Grantaire felt worse than ever. Honestly Grantaire might have felt better naked. 'Oh god' Grantaire thought 'He's staring at me what do I say?" Grantaire took three very quick breathes before saying "Oh you know, Brandy, beer, bleac...". 

Before Grantaire could even finish what he was saying Enjolras had stormed into the tiny flat. "Please tell me you haven't, oh god Grantaire i'm going to have to take you to the hospital oh jesus where is it?" By this point Enjoras was storming around the flat looking for the phantom bottle of bleach. Grantaire grabbed the blonde mans arm "Enjolras I was JOKING alright?" Enjolras' expression turned hard "How dare you worry me like that"

Grantaire laughed bitterly as he looked at the ground. "And why would you give a shit?" He couldn't meet Enjolras' eyes, it was physically impossible and even though he managed to keep up his cold, solemn composure, Grantaire found himself about five seconds away from crying. 

"Taire, I care about you a lot okay? please look at me" Grantaire looked up and the new, soft expression on Enjolras's face became too much for him. Within seconds, he was crying.

"You called me Taire?"

"You call me Enj"

Grantaire laughed "Only to annoy you"

"Oh" Enjolras' expression fell.

"No no i'm sorry I don't mean that in a bad way I just..."

"Go on a date with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, is Enjolras' offer genuine or is he just asking Grantaire out due to guilt? You probably won't find out in the next chapter...but soon.
> 
> Sorry for the really, really long hiatus I had kind of abandoned this. Please tell me if you think I should continue. Thanks! :)


	7. Before the Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its the day! (one day i'm going to edit this fic so its not a pile of trash but for now, enjoy my trash; from me to you)

"Shit shit oh fucking shit" Grantaire sung as he struggled to put his jeans on. "When did I put on so much weight, stupid fat bastard". When he finally got the jeans on his gut was quite literally hanging over the top of his jeans. "Oh for god sakes..." He collapsed down onto his bed and put his head in his hands. Enjolras was perfect, he was an absolute angel and oh dear god Grantaire was a mess. 

When Grantaire had first been asked out by Enjolras he thought it was a joke; that was step one. Step two consisted of him feeling the happiest he ever had since he was, what? maybe ever? but now, step three was torturing him. He couldn't get it out of his mind "oh my god this is my only chance" .Not only is Enjolras the person he had always wanted to be with in that way but he was also Grantaires only chance of happiness. He knew this was unhealthy but he didn't care. "Enjolras is mad perhaps? To want me? but if this goes wrong then there is no one else in the world for me"

There was a knock on the door but before he had the time to say 'come in' Enjolras had catapulted through the door, face red. Almost as if he had been running the entire way here. 

Grantaires face reddened to match Enjolras's. He still didn't have a shirt on and he was surprisingly quite a shy person. He jumped up and tried to cover himself.

"What are you doing? Enjolras asked

"Ummm just um looking for a shirt" Grantaire ran over to his wardrobe and pulled out the first shirt he could find. Ah, the paint splattered shirt. It would have to do"

"You don't have to you know" Enjolras blurted out.  
"I don't have to do what?"  
"Put on a shirt...I mean of course you have to put on a shirt, we're going out but what I mean is...never mind"

Grantaire wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or amused "Go on"  
"I just mean...you don't have to worry around me"


End file.
